


Idiot

by MizJoely



Series: Mytheamore [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, mythea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: Prompt fill for knapp-shappeys on tumblr: Maybe a whole secret-agent type thing would be cool :)





	Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompts: "Shut up, I'm trying to think our way out and you're not helping" and "That was the worst attempt at sarcasm I've seen in my whole career". I'll leave the rest up to you. Thanks!

"That was the worst attempt at sarcasm I've seen in my whole career."

Mycroft didn’t bother responding to Anthea’s comment, deciding that a disdainful silence was the best response. Of course that only made her chuckle, and he felt the back of his neck flushing at the sound. How had the blasted woman come to know him so well?

“Anyway, it seems fair to say that antagonizing the leader of a fanatical cult is probably _not_ the best way to go about getting them to release a prisoner. I could be wrong, but considering that we’re now _also_ prisoners, mm, I’d say I was actually right.”

Mycroft gritted his teeth. Anthea was deliberately going out of her way to do her very best Sherlock-the-annoying-git impersonation - and succeeding far, far too well. So well, in fact, that the next words out of his mouth were, “Shut up, I'm trying to think our way out and you're not helping!”

The frosty silence that met his ill-chosen exclamation could have flash-frozen any number of mastodons, unchewed buttercups and all.

It was her fault; no one flustered the Iceman as well as his unflappable, invaluable (intelligent, beautiful, far too sexy for his own good) personal assistant.

If only she were interested in being more ‘personal’ than ‘assistant’...

_No! Wrong! Delete that thought immediately!_ He could practically see the warning lights in his brain as he tried to banish the ridiculous, sentimental thoughts he’d been fighting all too frequently. Ever since Sherlock’s return from bringing down Moriarty’s network...ever since that inane conversation about loneliness and friendship, he’d been practically drowning in inappropriate thoughts. Inappropriate for him, the Iceman. Antarctica wasn’t just a code name, after all; it was a way of…

“Mycroft, you do know you’re thinking too loudly, right?”

He gave Anthea a look of purest outrage, quickly modifying it to his more trademark disdain. “Considering our circumstances, my dear, I hardly feel..”

Shit. Shit. He hadn’t actually just _said_ that, had he? Out loud? Surely she would take it for sarcasm? For annoyance? For...for…

“Oh for God’s sake,” he muttered, giving it up and turning to face her. She’d moved closer, was standing directly in front of him, matter of fact, arms folded across her chest and a knowing look in her eyes - along with an alluring combination of hope and wariness. Without a second thought - or rather, ignoring the crowd of second thoughts screaming inside his head - he placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Don’t ever tell Sherlock what an idiot I’ve been.”

As he moved to kiss her, the door to their prison burst open, and in strode his younger brother as if summoned, wearing an insufferable grin as he practically bounced over to greet them. “Hello, brother dear, had enough alone time with your goldfi...er, your PA?” he asked, far too cheerily.

Mycroft scowled, Sherlock’s smirk reached impossible proportions, and Anthea, bless her, merely tucked her arm through his and give his a light squeeze. “That’ll do,” she said mildly, and Sherlock actually stopped smirking and stepped back when she and Mycroft walked past him. “Mr. Aziz has been released?” she threw over her shoulder as they reached the door.

“Of course, John and Mary took care of that, he’s all ready for debriefing or deprogramming or whatever it is you need to do to get him to answer your questions,” Sherlock replied. Grumpily.

Good. Mycroft risked a quick smirk over his shoulder, but Sherlock made a kissy face - and a rather vulgar finger motion - and Mycroft turned back around. The view was much better if he just cut his eyes a bit to the left, meeting Anthea’s gaze.

She waited until they were alone in the backseat of the chauffeured limousine and on their way back to HQ before allowing him to snog her silly.

After all, appearances needed to be kept up.


End file.
